


The Night Of

by AphroditesLaw



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/F, Masked ball, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AphroditesLaw/pseuds/AphroditesLaw
Summary: To save her family’s home, Clarke has agreed to marry the achingly dull Finn Collins. Before his arrival, she attends the Royal Masked Ball for one last night of frivolity.





	The Night Of

Sitting at the back of the carriage, Clarke couldn’t tear her eyes away from the palace on the high hill ahead. The forest behind it was lush and superb, but it was the clear, varicolored sky that took her breath away. Clarke had lost count of how many times she’d gasped in awe already. With how long the trip was from her house to the palace, she had worried her nerves would get the best of her. But as she clutched her invitation between her gloved fingers and saw more carriages arrive, Clarke refused to let the night slip away. Tomorrow she would become Finn Collins’ betrothed and act the part of a proper lady, but tonight she would dance, laugh, and drink to her heart’s content. Nothing and no one would take that away from her.  

“Gustus,” she called out to her coachman, “Do you imagine I should put my mask on now?”

As she picked up the ornate silver mask on her lap, she heard Gustus’ booming reply over the clopping of the horses:

“I imagine now is as good a time as any!”

Clarke looked once more toward the golden gates before nodding to herself—Gustus had already slowed down and she could see guests ahead with their masks on. She tied her mask at the back of her head, looping the knots twice for good measure. It covered over half her face, though it felt very light. She had no desire to be recognized tonight and tarnish the good reputation of the Griffin name. She didn’t care much for it herself, but it was very important to her mother and, she had no doubt, the Collins family as well. After all, there wasn’t much else she had to offer in this arranged marriage. As such, upon receiving the same invitation the entire kingdom had—where, in an unprecedented move, it was stated that one member of each family was invited to the Royal Ball—Clarke had promised to behave herself. Still, it was a good thing that guests wore masks. If she made a fool of herself somehow, word would not reach the Collins estate.

As Gustus stopped the carriage and opened the door for her, Clarke stepped out and immediately looked toward the large stairway that led to the immense palace doors. From where Clarke stood, the guests going up looked like a pretty line of ants. She could only imagine how large the ballroom was.

“Do you think those doors go higher than the Griffin rooftop?” She asked Gustus.

He let out a hearty laugh and stroked his beard, pretending to think about it. “I would say so.”

Clarke grinned at him. “Will you be all right waiting, Gus? I won’t be later than midnight.”

He nodded, his eyes twinkling with delight. Clarke had known Gustus her entire life and there was no other man in the world she trusted more than him.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, “there are plenty of drivers tonight to keep me entertained.”  

“Please remember some of the gossip for our return,” Clarke whispered before squeezing his arm. He let out another laugh and climbed back on the carriage to lead the horses away.

Clarke walked on the beautiful winding path that led to the stairway. There were trees and rose bushes lining the stone pavement, giving the air a pleasant smell. As she went up the stairs behind a young woman in a gorgeous yellow dress, Clarke felt that her own dress paled in comparison. It was a simple dark blue with notes of silver to match her mask, but she thought it fit her nicely and at least she could dance in it.

As soon as Clarke showed her invitation and entered the palace, the first notes of music reached her ears. She followed guests down a long line on the red carpets of the hallways, finally reaching the ballroom at the very end. To say it was large was an understatement. They could likely fit another palace in there! There were guests dancing already, dresses twirling and laughs resounding. It was a popular style of dance where people went from partner to partner in smooth spins. The issue was getting into the mix of things, which required a partner to begin with.

Walking around, Clarke saw tables the length of the entire ballroom covered in foods and drinks that she had never seen before. The musicians had to be spread out in all four corners so that the music could fill the room beautifully. On a higher stage, in front of a velvet red curtain, two empty thrones oversaw the room. Clarke wondered if the Queen and the Princess would appear at some point, though in the end it didn’t matter much. The Royal Ball clearly didn’t need its royals present to be great fun.

Clarke made her way to the tables and tried some of the pastries before picking up one of the bubbling drinks. It rushed to her head but was pleasant otherwise. She observed some of the men and women sitting on the chairs nearest to the walls, away from the dancing bodies but still clearly interested in watching everyone. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, often letting out snorts of laugher that led Clarke to believe this was a gossiping bunch. She had better stay away from them.

It was some time before she worked the nerve to ask someone to dance. Clarke had two more drinks since, though she knew her limit and stopped herself. She looked toward the standing groups, wondering who she could approach. Everyone looked so elegant; it was a bit of a daunting task.

“May I have a dance?” A voice behind her asked.

Clarke turned around and took in the young man facing her. He had dark skin, a warm smile, and a silver mask similar to hers. He seemed to be around her age and had a friendly demeanor. There was a green pin on the lapel of his suit that Clarke had already noticed on other men and women. She wondered if it meant they usually worked at the palace.  

“I thought it looked like you might want to join in,” he added.

“I do,” Clarke smiled. “I just couldn’t figure out where to start.”

“We can help each other out, then.”

He took her hand and led her closer to the others, where he deftly spun her around until finally they were dancing.

“I’m Lincoln,” he said over the music, amused when it grew louder.

“Clarke,” she answered happily. Now that she had started dancing, she didn’t want to stop.

As they moved in smooth circles with the rest of the room, the musicians veered back into a transition that signaled the end of the piece and the thrilling start of another. 

“This is the part where I whirl you around to someone else,” Lincoln said.

Clarke grinned. “Hopefully as good a dancer as you!”  

He glanced over her shoulder and then smiled impishly. “Oh, she is.”

As their hands separated, Clarke spun around. A hand gently grasped hers and gloveless fingers settled around her waist.

Clarke held her breath as she looked into the eyes of her partner. Though she did not miss a step, she felt that everything around her ceased to matter as she took in the woman leading their dance. She wore a traditional ballroom suit, dark and well fitted, with a black mask that covered half her face. Her hair was long and thick, elegantly swept to one side. She had a delicate nose and plump lips that formed a small smile, but it was her eyes that Clarke couldn’t look away from. 

There were many dancers around them, certainly there must’ve been, but Clarke saw only her partner and heard only the music. She didn’t know what it was that made her heat race so quickly—perhaps the way their fingers entwined, making her wonder why she had ever settled on wearing gloves. Whatever it was, Clarke didn’t want it to end. The woman was a good dancer, better even than Clarke’s old instructor who had taught people all over the world. She led effortlessly, like she knew every note the musicians regaled them with like the back of her hand. 

Perhaps came a point where they should’ve changed partners, but the woman never spun her around to let go and Clarke didn’t initiate it either. As they grew closer yet, Clarke was glad for the mask hiding her blush, and yet bemoaned that the woman’s covered so much of her face. She had never felt this way; to want to know someone so quickly, to learn the kind of person they were and what their fondest memories might be. 

When the music ended and applause resounded in the room, Clarke had to blink herself out of her stupor. It had seemed to her that the dance lasted forever and yet not entirely long enough. Is that what her mother meant when she told her stories about dancing the night away? Clarke had hoped her heart would stop beating so fast once her partner let go of her hand, but the opposite happened and Clarke thought she might very well have a panic attack. Suddenly the room was far too crowded and it became difficult to breathe.  

“Are you all right?” Her partner murmured, fingers still gently resting on the curve of Clarke’s waist.

“I—I need some air,” Clarke whispered in apology before scurrying away without a glance back.

Once she made it out of the ballroom, Clarke didn’t know where she was headed. She couldn’t get out of the front doors for fear of walking by more guests, but there were many corridors in the main hall and perhaps she could find a spot in the dark. She took a left into a deserted passage and then lurched toward a glass door to open it.

Outside, the crisp air felt like a blessing. Clarke inhaled sharply, pressing a hand above her heart. Her dress felt too tight and she could barely walk straight. As she took in her surroundings, she noticed it was an enclosed garden with a large fountain in the middle. It was quiet and peaceful; a far cry from the rush of the ball. Clarke sat on the smooth stone around the fountain and took off her gloves to press a palm against her forehead. It didn’t seem like she had a fever, but she still felt warm and dizzy.

As she looked at her reflection in the water, she could hardly believe the sight of her. Her eyes seemed wild, her hair was a proper mess, and her chest rose and fell far too quickly. She resisted the urge to slap the water.

“Do you feel better?”

Clarke startled. Her dance partner stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands nervously clasped in front of her.

“Yes,” Clarke answered, trying to hide the tremble in her voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave so suddenly.”

The woman shrugged, then bit her lip.

“May I sit?”

Clarke nodded, smoothing out her dress as the woman sat next to her.

“It’s very peaceful here.”

“It is,” Clarke agreed, feeling tongue-tied. It was very unlike her, almost the very opposite of her.

The woman stared ahead at the palace wall, and together they listened to the sounds of the garden and the gentle lull of the fountain. Clarke slowly relaxed.

“I’m Clarke,” she said, finding it the proper thing to do. Maybe she could still salvage this night. 

It seemed to amuse the woman, though Clarke couldn’t figure out why.

“Lexa.”

It was an unusual name, but Clarke found it suited her perfectly.

“Thank you for the dance, Lexa.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Clarke ventured a look at Lexa’s profile, taken by the beauty of it. Her heart had a mind of its own tonight, which was entirely the problem. Clarke chastised herself—her future husband would be at her door _tomorrow_.

“You seem troubled,” Lexa remarked quietly.

Clarke kept her hands occupied with the gloves on her lap. “It’s nothing. Nothing I haven’t had time to prepare for.”

“Perhaps I can help.”

Clarke frowned. “You?”

“Sometimes the words of a stranger can open new doors.”

Clarke smiled at the odd saying. Maybe it would help to talk about it.

“In truth, I shouldn’t be here at all. I’m getting engaged tomorrow to a very conservative family.”

“You are marrying the entire family?”

Clarke let out a small laugh, which in turn made Lexa smile.

“No, just the eldest son, but they’re quite close. We’ll live in the family estate, just a floor above his parents’ bedroom.”

Lexa wrinkled her nose.

“They’re all very nice, really,” Clarke felt the need to add.    

“I’ve found that people often say nice instead of boring,” Lexa said. “I presume it’s arranged?”

Clarke nodded, relieved she could talk about it without being judged so closely. Perhaps Lexa was right—it was easier to speak with someone so detached from the topic.

“A few months ago,” Clarke started, “collectors told my mother that she had yet to repay my father’s debt. He… before he passed, he had a habit of gambling. The Collins have been eager to marry their son and offered to repay our debt should I agree.”

Lexa pursed her lips in thought. “And… this son is incapable of finding a wife on his own?”

Clarke remembered the first and last time she had met him. “Finn is… very focused on his bookkeeping career.”

“Ah. So he is indeed horribly boring and cannot hold a woman’s attention.”

Clarke bit back a smile. “I didn’t say that.”

“Do you think you could love him?”

Clarke was taken aback by the question. She looked down at her hands, feeling silly.  

“I’ve only met him once. We talked briefly about hobbies and he prattled on about his wood carvings,” she sighed. “He seems kind enough… Perhaps that is how love should start.”

“If it’s all for a debt…” Lexa trailed off, not wanting to presume anything, “surely you could appeal to someone?”

Clarke shook her head. “My mother’s already tried everything. She even started dressmaking for her close friends, but it’s such an enormous sum. Only selling the house could repay it, really, and I’ll die before I see my mother in the streets.”

“What about court?” Lexa suggested. “It’s open to private requests of this nature.”

Clarke frowned. “The Queen deals with so many important affairs—the fate of the Griffin house is meaningless in comparison. We would never dare bother her with it.”

“Yes, the Queen is rather busy,” Lexa agreed. “But I hear the Princess deals with private matters and has time on her hands. She did throw this extravagant ball for herself.”

Clarke smiled. “She opened the palace doors to the people. I would say she has made the kingdom happy tonight.”

Lexa hummed in acknowledgment. “It’s been some time since the palace was this lively.”

Clarke bit her lip, feeling curious. “Have you been here many times before?”

Lexa looked up at the palace walls, stretching so high and wide with its many windows. “One might say I work here.”

“Oh. You must be very used to it all, then.”

“I’ll say.”

“What do you do?”

“I make sure things run smoothly.”

Clarke nodded in understanding. “I do my share of that at home. I suppose I’ll do even more of it at the Collins estate.”

“Is that what they expect of you?” Lexa inquired softly.

“I don’t know… They’re conservative.”

“So you’ve mentioned.”

Clarke frowned. “It’s a lifestyle like any other and they don’t bother anyone with it.”

“I apologize,” Lexa said, looking away. “I didn’t mean to sound critical. It’s as you’ve said: your love might very well start that way. I don’t know, really. I’m a stranger in a mask.”

Clarke noticed that Lexa’s fingers slightly curled around the fabric of her pants.

“Well… Stranger, how do _you_ think it starts?” Clarke asked.

Lexa took a small breath. “I think, perhaps, it starts with an attraction amplified by dancing and conversation. I think it’s a strong feeling in the pit of your stomach and a horrible desire to run away because you might make a fool of yourself, and yet an even stronger notion that if you do, she will leave to meet her betrothed and you might never see her again, and that—that would be most unacceptable.”

Clarke gave Lexa a soft smile. “But your attraction is to a mask. What is beneath could be terribly disappointing.”  

Lexa finally looked at her, the hand on her thigh relaxing as she picked up on the playful nature of Clarke’s words.

“I can’t think of anything that would disappoint.”

“You would not be repulsed by sores, warts, and boils?”

Lexa chuckled. “All three? I’d like the name of the witch you have upset so thoroughly to suffer such a curse. I’ll pay her a visit myself.”

Clarke laughed. “You’re mad.”

“I may very well be. The truth is I lost all propriety when I learned I only had one night in your company.”  

“Lexa…”

“Forgive me," whispered Lexa.

“It’s forgiven.”

“But is it really?”

Lexa cupped her cheek and kissed her so very tenderly that Clarke only felt the sweet brush of her lips before she pulled away. Clarke looked into her eyes and silently pleaded the skies to stop the world around them for just this moment. She gripped Lexa’s collar and, with a sigh of surrender, pulled her closer to reclaim those insufferable lips. It was her first kiss and Clarke would cherish it as her most precious secret.

The chime of the palace clock brought her back to reality. As her eyes swept over Lexa’s closed eyelids and parted lips, Clarke knew a secret was all this could ever be.

“I’m sorry, I…” She shook her head and got up, fingers trembling over her lips.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispered. She had a look in her eyes that reminded Clarke of someone who had drunk a glass too many.  

“I can’t. _I can’t._ I’m meeting Finn tomorrow!” Clarke exclaimed. She couldn’t betray her mother.

Without a second thought, she gathered her dress and ran out of the garden, through the main hall, and down the palace stairway. She spotted Gustus immediately, brushing the horses as he chatted with another driver.

“Gustus, Gustus, we have to leave! Quickly!”

Without missing a beat, he opened the door for her before jumping on and shouting at the horses to go. As the carriage sped past the golden gates, Clarke bit the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from looking back. If she did, she might see the woman who had stolen her first kiss and the very heart galloping in her chest.

* * *

When Clarke woke the next morning in her bed, the sun had started to rise. She felt tired and heavy, barely able to keep her eyes open. And yet she’d fought against sleep all night, tossing and turning in bed, wondering about Lexa, if it had all been a dream or if it was truly her she could still taste on her lips. She remembered the smell of the garden and the sound of the fountain, saturating her senses with the memory of what she had gained and lost in one night.

The doors opened abruptly, revealing her mother wrapped in a shawl. She seemed worried.

“Clarke, get up!”

Clarke squinted at her mother who quickly opened the window and let the sunlight pour in.

“What is it?” She groaned.

“A royal carriage is approaching the house!”

Clarke’s eyes widened. She threw the blankets off of her and ran up to the window. They both watched as an ornate carriage with six white horses drove down the path that led to their home.  

Abigail looked at Clarke with fear in her eyes.

“What on earth did you do last night?”

“Nothing!” Clarke swore, heart in her throat as she watched the carriage horses come to a stop. The driver, who had broken a sweat, ran his hand atop his bald head.

“You must’ve done something,” Abigail panicked. “Oh goodness, did you insult the Queen?”

“She wasn’t even there!”

The carriage doors finally opened.

Clarke’s mother gasped. “It’s Princess Alexandria!”

It would be hard for anyone who had never seen the Princess to know so quickly she was of royal blood. After all, apart from the ridiculously ornate carriage she stepped out of, there was nothing quite as fanciful about her. Not in the way Clarke had ever imagined, at least.

And yet, here was the Princess herself standing on the gravel of the Griffin estate. In just the space of a heartbeat, Clarke recognized the sweep of her hair, the proud chin, and Lexa’s impossible smile as their eyes met and she inclined her head in greeting.

If she weren’t gripping the curtain so tightly, Clarke had a feeling she would faint.

**Author's Note:**

> Initially posted on my tumblr. I hope you enjoyed it. Some Disney gooeyness never hurts, right? :)


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